<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lab Preparation by Tiefling_Writes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170969">Lab Preparation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiefling_Writes/pseuds/Tiefling_Writes'>Tiefling_Writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Project Achilles [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abduction, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Temporary Character Death, Victor and Dorian don't actually have feelings for each other at all, Victor just lied to get him there and Dorian was looking for a fun way to spend the night, for like five minutes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:29:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiefling_Writes/pseuds/Tiefling_Writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How to collect a perfect specimen from the wilds of London.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Victor Frankenstein/Dorian Gray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Project Achilles [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lab Preparation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Goal: lure subject into the lab.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor scowled as he dressed himself to be more presentable. The lack of leather gloves left his hands feeling chilled, the cravat around his neck was suffocating, there was not a speck of blood or grime on his clothing—he felt incomplete. Looking into a cracked mirror, he applied a skin-toned powder to the dark crescents under his eyes. A frown crossed his face as he saw that a single layer was unable to solve his problem. He closed the little container of powder anyway and placed it back on a shelf. At least the dark crescents were no longer as noticeable, and besides, he was a doctor and a diligent one at that. It stood to reason that he would lose hours of sleep to the critical research he conducted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reminded himself of this as he crossed into the outside world, on the way to his first social function in years, to collect his subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Subject is gullible–precautions three through six have been deemed unnecessary.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like something to drink?” The doctor asked, almost ripping the cravat from his neck as he and the subject crossed into his home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always,” came the reply. He took a seat next to the doctors' desk, while the doctor went into another room to pour a drink, as well as to dissolve a small tablet in the glass of his subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two drank in near-silence for several moments until his subject spoke. “Might I know the name of the stranger who led me to his—” he glanced around, gaze lingering on the medical equipment in the next room. “—lab?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Old manners and niceties of his youth rolled from his tongue. “Forgive me, my home is much farther away, and I spend much of my time here anyway. My research makes for many late nights,” He paused for a moment, hearing the request for his name. “Frankenstein, Doctor Frankenstein.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A coy smile from his subject. “Ah, I see. What are you planning to research tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He took another sip of wine, peering at the subject from over the rim of the glass. “A rather remarkable specimen. Unlike any other."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In what ways?” His specimen was leaning forward now, glass already three quarters drained. The dissolved tablet, among other things, caused a dry throat, which would prompt a subject to down their glass quickly, only speeding up the pace at which the drug took hold on its victim’s mind and body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For one, blonde hair in London specimens often takes on a yellow-brown colouration,” Frankenstein responded, idly threading a hand through his specimen's hair. “Rarely does it appear as platinum—almost white. Even rarer, does it appear to be pure gold and soft as silk.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small chuckle escaped his specimen, though his expression flitted between uncomfortable and flattered. What interested Frankenstein, though, was the slight clouding of his subject's bright eyes and the relaxing of his posture. “But,” he continued, giving a harsh tug at the subject’s hair, “hair is trivial when compared to immortality.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Few people bear witness to the five stages of grief all at once. Frankenstein savoured that look of confusion, betrayal, fury, and fear as his subject lost consciousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Subject possesses less strength than initially expected–precautions seven through eight have been deemed unnecessary’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, the doctor waited outside his laboratory, watching his sleeping specimen. After the specimen had fallen unconscious, he had dragged the body from its seat at the table to his laboratory, before depositing him onto a slightly modified surgical chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several leather straps held the specimen to the chair, while wires wove throughout the chairs’ metal backing. </span>
  <span>The setup’s discomfort became apparent as the doctor’s specimen stirred awake, a groan leaving him as he attempted to stretch, only to realize something holding him down. </span>
  <span>Surprisingly, there was no panic in his specimen’s eyes, nor did he attempt to break out of the restraints aside from a few experimental tugs. If anything, his specimen appeared confused and vaguely annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes locked onto the doctor standing in the doorway, and, instead of the rage he expected to see, his specimen only grinned lazily. “Having another go, then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frankenstein hummed as he paced over to his specimen, subtly lifting a scalpel from the desk as he did so. </span>
  <span>Gently, he lifted his specimen’s chin before tracing his thumb over the base of the specimen’s neck. He thought he heard the specimen speak. “Hmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that I've not the slightest clue of what happened last night—you may have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>remind</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last night was simply preparation. My true experiments start now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His specimen, confused, opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by a scalpel slicing straight through his jugular vein. Crimson sprang from the wound, a desperate gurgle replacing an attempt to scream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frankenstein stood back, idly cleaning the scalpel with a semi-clean rag. Seconds passed, and the specimen ceased to move. Minutes crawled by, and as the doctor was beginning to feel failure nip at the edges of his psyche, porcelain skin stretched and pulled back together, until not even a scar was left. Dull eyes brightened, wet with tears and terror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So the rumours are true.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you to Lils_20 yet again! She cares enough about the story to check in and keep me motivated to work, she also knows how punctuation works.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>